


Loving Me to Death

by draculard



Category: Fright Night (1985)
Genre: Charley's mom is a hoe, F/F, Sort of a Jerry defeats Charley AU, Vampire Amy, Where Amy isnt saved and instead becomes a vampire full-time, dom amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Amy pays Mrs. Brewster a late-night visit.





	Loving Me to Death

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Carmilla: "How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after."

Judy Brewster was comfortably situated in front of _The Young and the Restless_ when she heard the sweet, familiar voice of her son’s girlfriend at the door.

“Mrs. Brewster?”

Judy glanced behind her, waiting for Charley to come rushing down the stairs like he always did when Amy came by. After a few seconds, there was still no sound of footsteps from his room.

_Must be watching that hideous horror show_ , Judy thought. She pushed herself to her feet and was halfway across the living room when she heard Amy’s voice again.

“Mrs. Brewster? May I come in?”

“Yes, yes, of course, dear,” said Judy without thinking. Her heart always melted a little at the sound of Amy’s voice. She unlocked the door, smiling down at Amy Peterson, who looked as lovely as ever -- a small, pixie-ish girl, with her blonde hair cut short, her face wiped free of makeup.

“Is Charley home?” Amy asked, making no attempt to come inside. Judy glanced over her shoulder at the stairs.

“I’d guess he’s watching TV,” she said. “Why don’t you come in?”

She stood aside, and Amy stepped past her daintily. Judy shut the door, casting one last glance at the empty sidewalks and the glowing streetlights.

“You shouldn’t be walking around this late alone,” she said absently as she turned the lock. “What with those murders…”

“I know, Mrs. Brewster,” said Amy. “But I had to see you.”

Judy frowned as she turned around again, taking in Amy’s uncommonly serious expression. “See me?” she asked, not sure she’d heard right. Amy nodded, eyes wide and earnest. After a moment, Judy put her hand on Amy’s shoulder and led her to the den, where Amy took a seat on the sofa. “What’s wrong, dear?” Judy asked.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, exactly,” Amy said. She hesitated, and then smiled at Judy -- there was something off about her smile, something sharp and predatory. Judy couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it triggered a sense of alarm inside her, and at the same time, it reminded her of that handsome man next door, Mr. Dandrige, and that sparked a burst of infatuation along with the alarm.

“If nothing’s wrong…” said Judy, a little flustered.

“I had to see _you_ ,” Amy said again. She closed her lips to cover her teeth, still smiling, and shrugged her delicate little shoulders. “I like you, Mrs. Brewster.”

They were innocent words, but Judy knew deep down that they weren’t meant innocently. Her breath hitched and she looked away, eyes caught on the TV.

“I like you, too, Amy,” she said stiffly, against her better judgment. She could see the look of hesitation on Amy’s face, out of the corner of her eye.

“My mother…” Amy started, then trailed off. After a long moment, she started again, her eyes averted demurely. “My mother didn’t breast-feed me, you know.”

Judy stared at her wordlessly, her mouth hanging open.

“Would _you_ feed me?” Amy asked. She batted her eyelashes, and the sight of that flung Judy into an intense disorientation she had never felt before. It was like she was two different people living two slightly different lives -- one where she and Amy were having an odd but harmless conversation, and one where all of Amy’s implications and undertones were laid bare. Judy didn’t know which situation to respond to so she just sat there, struggling for words.

“I…” she said finally. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Amy pouted, but she didn’t really look disappointed. There was a spark in her eyes. “You invited me in,” she said. “Doesn’t that count for something? Isn’t that saying yes, in a way?”

Mutely, Judy shook her head. Amy leaned forward, elbows on her knees in an uncharacteristically masculine gesture.

“If I can’t have Charley,” said Amy sweetly, “can’t I have you?”

Judy felt awfully flushed, suddenly. Her hands were sweaty and trembling, and she wiped them against her jeans as she turned away from Amy entirely, staring out the window at the darkened sky.

“Amy,” Judy said, her mouth dry, “that’s not--”

“I’ll make it nice for you,” said Amy with an honest eagerness that Judy had overheard frequently during her arguments with Charley. “Really, I will.”

It was like an electric fire had been lit in Judy’s belly. She crossed her legs firmly, without even thinking about it, and felt the denim tighten against her most sensitive areas in a mix of discomfort and pain. She let out a shaky sigh and glanced quickly at Amy, a small, rueful smile twisting on her lips.

“What do you know about all that, anyway?” she said, almost relieved to find an argument. “I’ve heard you arguing with Charley. I know you two have never…”

She couldn’t say it in the end; her own awkwardness and the calm, somewhat cold expression on Amy’s face stopped her.

“Not with Charley,” said Amy, voice steady. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve never done it at all. I know exactly how to make you cum, Mrs. Brewster.”

Fire surged up Judy’s face, settling in her cheeks. She snapped her gaze away from Amy abruptly, unable to look at her a moment longer -- and maybe Amy sensed that, because suddenly she was on her feet, standing directly in a beam of moonlight from the window.

“Look,” Amy said softly. Judy refused; she kept her gaze averted. “ _Look_ ,” Amy said, and then her fingers began to grow. They lengthened steadily -- painlessly, if Amy’s placid expression could be trusted -- and captured Judy’s attention against her will. She watched, spellbound, as Amy’s fingers grew nearly six inches in length, triple joints flexing as naturally as could be. Finally, Judy met Amy’s eyes, and the intensity she saw there rendered her speechless.

“Wouldn’t it feel good with these inside you?” Amy whispered.

Judy couldn’t respond. Her heart was thumping too hard, drowning out all thought. She leaned back on the sofa and mutely uncrossed her legs, leaving them spread.

“Do I have your permission?” asked Amy, voice husky, urgent. “May I feed on you, Mrs. Brewster?”

“Yes,” Judy breathed. “Yes.”

It was as though someone had poured a drug-laced cocktail directly over her brain. Her senses were heightened and muted at once -- the touch of Amy’s skin against hers gave way to the rattling of breath in her chest, and then that was shunted aside by the sharp teeth against her neck, by the sting of a bite, by the pleasure of Amy’s many-jointed fingers stroking her nipples, then dancing through the folds of her vulva, spreading nectar over Judy’s long-neglected bud.

“Does this feel good?” Amy asked. Her lips smothered Judy’s answer; they tasted coppery, like blood, and when Judy opened her eyes she realized that was exactly what it was. There was red smeared on Amy’s lips, red trickling down Judy’s bare chest. When had Amy undressed her? She couldn’t remember it clearly, but her blouse was unbuttoned and discarded on the sofa, her jeans and panties pulled down to her ankles.

“Am I--” Judy asked in a daze, one hand coming up to the wound in her neck. “Am I bleeding?”

“Shh.”

She might have felt pain, then, but if so, it was minor in the face of Amy’s deft, skilled hands between her legs. Two fingers slipped inside her without resistance and brushed almost immediately against a bundle of nerve endings, making Judy gasped. Amy curled her fingers -- not just once, but twice, in two different areas, and Judy’s back arched. She heard herself moan as if from a distance, heard herself pleading, whispering Amy’s name.

_This isn’t right_ , said a voice deep in Judy’s head. _Your own son’s girlfriend. A teenage girl_.

But the voice was little more than a gasp, buried by the onslaught of sounds and sensations that were sweeping over Judy’s brain. She could feel herself moving, pressing down against Amy’s fingers even as Amy drove upward. Amy’s face was buried in the crook of Judy’s neck, nipping gently at her skin, sucking, sucking--

“I won’t turn you,” Amy whispered, breathless. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Judy couldn’t comprehend the words. Her thoughts had been electrified by the curling of Amy’s fingers and before she could even begin to respond, her body stiffened, muscles coiling tight. A white light overcame here, blocked out everything -- even Amy’s fingers, even Amy’s teeth, even Amy herself, and nothing was left except the pulsing wave of pleasure that had become Judy’s mind, body, and soul.

When she came back to herself, it was dark out. Her clothes were discarded, some on the sofa, some on the floor, and her body was slick with sweat. There was a wetness between her legs she could not deny, a bleeding cut on her neck.

But Amy was nowhere to be seen.

_A fever dream?_ Judy wondered. But surely she would never dream up something so fantastic. That was more Charley’s realm -- monsters and spirits and vampires, all that horrific nonsense teenage boys were so attracted to. It would be natural for Charley to conjure up some dark creature of the night, but not Judy.

She froze then, staring blankly at the TV screen, where _The Young and the Restless_ had given way to late-night TV. Her mind ticked over the words again, and then over Amy’s plea to be let in, her hesitation at the threshold, her white, sharp teeth. Judy placed a hand over the throbbing wound on her neck. It had stopped bleeding, but the area around the cut was already swollen and bruised, and she knew it would hurt for quite some time.

What could account for the way her senses had deserted her, almost like they were being controlled by someone else? What could account for her sudden, intense attraction to a girl she’d known for years, a girl she’d never before seen as anything more than a child?

_Vampires_ , she thought, and let out a small, tearful laugh.

Maybe Charley was onto something.


End file.
